


Spit and Polish

by turntechnologic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Shoe Kink, Sibling Incest, there are probably more tags but I can't think of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:09:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1269307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechnologic/pseuds/turntechnologic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro gets a new pair of shoes and Dave helps him break them in</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spit and Polish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmiccastles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmiccastles/gifts).



> Hi yeah I wrote this about a post on the blog stridersandpee.tumblr.com

"Can I see ‘em," Dave asks, tailing Bro into his room like a shadow. The apartment is dark, though, so it’s more like he melts into the walls as Bro moves. For his impatience, Dave earns himself a light scoff and a click of his tongue as the elder Strider directs him to the bed with a jerk of his thumb. The bag in his hand bumps against his thigh as he paces further into the room. Dave wilts a little, visibly so, and Bro watches him sit on the bed. He’s flirting with the corner of Bro’s peripheral vision as he drops the bag onto the desk, the cardboard box landing heavily against the wood and its contents settling with light thunks.

"Bro, come on, fucking show me." Both tone and eyes demand, and Dave draws himself up as tall as he can from his position on the bed, pulling himself up and out of his slump and sitting with his back straight. There was an attempt. Maybe he’ll manage to look intimidating some day. Bro moves to lean against the desk, blocking his new kicks from Dave’s line of sight. The teen nearly whines in disappointment.

It’s a few minutes before Bro is the first one to break. Dave nearly slumps in his relief, though he snaps up in anticipation a moment after.

"They’re the ones I asked for, right? Those exact ones?" Dave murmurs as he slowly rises from the bed and takes a cautious step closer to Bro, who scoffs once more as he drags the bag into his lap. The kid had no shame. Well, yet.

"Relax, bro, I got the good stuff," he assures him. The strident sound of a plastic bag crumpling under a firm grip fills the otherwise silent room with noise, and it floats to the ground, unnoticed, and lands by the wheel of the desk chair. The lid of the box comes off next, and Dave can feel his heart stuttering deliciously in his chest as Bro picks up the first shoe.

The slick black Nike shoes gleam a little in the pale lighting of Bro’s room. The city outside the window casts artificial red and green and blue lighting onto the smooth material. Bro lifts it up and appraises it lightly, turning it around in his hand and refusing Dave’s quiet prompts to touch and scratch and feel. He waves Dave back a few feet and kicks off his slides, sending them off into the corner. The stars of the show wait patiently on his lap.

They’re the perfect size, Bro can tell. The phrase “fits like a glove” comes to mind. They slide around his feet snugly and trap his toes deliciously under the stiff strain of unbroken shoes. His heel is cushioned against the back and the tongue of the shoe licks up the top of his foot. It’s a shame it’s nearly covered by his jeans, but at least the black denim compliments the sneakers well. The second one slides on gracefully as well, and Bro pulls the laces tight as he secures them. The hushed sound of fabric shifting across an upholstered chair follows Bro’s movements as he plants his feet on the wood floor. The shoes squeak lightly, and both Striders shiver.

Dave is on his knees. His eyes are locked on the black shoes, a quiet glossy sheen reflecting the lights around them. Bro tips one foot up onto his ankle and shows him the label on the sole. He figures Dave has earned a treat.

"Move closer," Bro says. His voice is soft and commanding, quiet against the otherwise loud city just beneath the window, but inside the apartment it’s nearly a shout due to how keyed up Dave is. Throat dry and sandy, Dave nods his head and shuffles forward, momentarily caught between which foot to approach. He settles for the right one, the creamy bottom of the shoe and it’s unmarred ridges practically begging for his attention.

The glazed look in his eye tells Bro that Dave is almost unaware of how close he’s gotten, until he’s started out of his advance as Bro lifts a leg and presses his toe delicately into his chest. A warning glance that goes unnoticed to accompany it. Dave hears the shaky breath, and if Bro strains hard enough, he’s sure he can hear a stuttering heartbeat too.  
Bro drags his foot up towards Dave’s jaw, and he pushes it lightly to the side. He’s pleased at the way the shoe catches his shirt and slides jerkily up his skin, the friction igniting Dave’s stock-still form into a mess of twitches and a lone, low keen.

"New shoe smell," Bro comments, pulling the toe of his shoe down to the fine curve of Dave’s chin. A quick flash of pink shows Dave’s tongue darting out against his lips, and his slim fingers twitch from their position balled up and firmly in place on his thighs. The black material tips to the side and exposes the arch of his foot. "Don’t touch. You’ve got other senses, kid, use ‘em."

Dave trembles as Bro shifts and props his foot on his shoulder. Sandy blond hair turns to the left and a small freckled nose bumps into the glittering arch. The breath he takes is shakey. The exhale after is a hot mess. He presses forward and rubs his nose into the arch, nearly nuzzling it as he inhales.

"Let’s see- you’ve heard them," Bro squeaks his left foot against the polished wood floor softly and Dave jumps, pupils blown wide. "You’ve smelled them," the smooth black material rubs against his nose teasingly. "Guess you can taste them, next."

A flutter of air washes over the toe of the shoe. Both of Dave’s hands are planted on the floor in front of him, and the soft pink of his tongue slides out to drag up the white rim of the bottom of the shoe in a lovely contrast. Black and white look lovely together, and pink fits in just perfectly.

Dave goes to town. What started as little tentative licks and maybe a shy kiss or two quickly evolves, into broad sweeps of his tongue and teeth filled and sloppy kisses- to the toe, arch, heel, the sole of his shoe. Anywhere Dave’s mouth can reach is soon slick with his spit, and soft pants and grunts drip out of him like drool down the side of his mouth. His cheeks are a rosy red and his lips are swollen with abuse as Bro sits his foot passively under his touch.

For his own part, Bro watches his little brother lave at his shoes through half-lidded eyes, and his motions are languid and lazy as his hands start at the top of his chest and rub down slowly. He’s palming himself, all too soon, the constricting material of his jeans outlining his bulge deliciously. He doesn’t look away, though, and it’s some time before he picks his leg up.

A trail of spit connects Dave’s outstretched tongue and the very tip of the shoes, and it breaks and falls against the white bottom of the sneakers. Bro tsks lightly and watches as Dave picks his hands up to wipe the spit off his chin.

Bro wipes the base of the shoe against Dave’s thigh, leaving a small dark streak in the denim of his jeans. The shiver he gets in response is enough for him to flick open the button of his own jeans.

Dave says nothing as Bro stands up, the majority of his weight resting on the foot planted firmly on the inside of his thigh. The steady rise and fall of his chest clues him in, though, and Bro presses him down onto the wood floor with a firm touch of his foot. He falls back immediately, and Bro toes up the hem of his shirt. Small, nervous fingers curl a little into palms in anticipation.

"Bet you want this nifty little logo stamped all across ya, don’t you?" Bro asks as he pushes the shirt up to his collar bones and digs the toe in a little. Dave gasps and arches up against him, as much of a "yes please" as he is capable of at the moment. Bro shrugs, and nods his head, and picks his foot up until he hovers over Dave’s ribs. Bro isn’t very heavy, but there is still a lot of pressure as he sets his foot down and shifts his entire weight over onto it for a moment. He lifts it up though and knows it’s immediately worth it as Dave’s fingers shift to press into the red imprint of the label, his breath catching in his throat.

The urge to mark him is overwhelming just then. And hey- Dave wants it too.

Bro drags his foot over to the other side of Dave’s chest and leaves an identical mark, a mirror image of the first. A third is left a little lower down on his ribs. Pale and smooth skin presses up against his foot, trying to increase the pressure, maybe egg Bro on for more. Like always, Bro indulges him, and soon Dave’s chest is littered with pink blotches and darker brands from the bottom of the shoe.

Bro continues for a time like this, avoiding the one place Dave wants him to mark most. He leaves bruises on his hips and slick spit streaks down his ribs, bright red marks on his sides and a few heavy stamps on his thighs. It’s a good thing Dave bruises like a peach; give it a few days and Bro won’t be able to help swallowing a little harder when he walks around shirtless after a shower. It’s also nice to see the writhing mess beneath him just now, choking out pleas and directions and desires on his stumbling tongue, but Bro is impressed. He’s keeping together well.

It isn’t until Dave’s hand comes up and shoves at his foot that Bro finally indulges him, and relocates the shoe to hover delicately over the hard bulge in his jeans. The younger Strider whimpers and grinds up, trying to cut the distance and get friction all at once.

"Come on, Bro, please, fucking please," he breathes, back bowed and chest fluttering. Eyeing him from above, Bro finally smiles a little at him. Of course there will be pictures later. Don’t want to waste such a perfect moment.

Bro sets his foot down and the shoe drags deliciously across Dave’s trapped cock. He arches his hips up and tries in vain to create more pressure, but Bro only takes his foot up and runs the heel of his shoe lazily across his dick. The last of the spit rubs off against his jeans.

"I think you’ll like this better if you take these off," he says quietly, moving to rest his heel against Dave’s balls through the fabric. He grinds into him some and Dave whimpers quietly, rolling his hips to meet Bro’s foot. His heartbeat is nearly audible.

In an instant a pair of eager and shaking hands are tearing at the button and fly of Dave’s jeans and the dark fabric is shoved down and off his legs in a fury. Bro is pleased to see the marks on his thighs were made clearly. The logo would stick around for days.

Dave’s cock twitches in the warm air of the room, little flecks of precum dabbing at his lower stomach. Bro knows he’s holding his breath, and he can’t help but smirk as he fits his toe against the base of his cock. Dave groans and his eyes shut, and his dick jumps against his skin at the contact.

"You’re gonna get them so dirty Dave," Bro coos as he brushes his foot up to the head of Dave’s cock, and with a flick of his ankle that suggests practice, he slides the toe of the glossy black shoe under the drooling head of his cock. He watches with mild amusement as it spasms once more. "I’m gonna have to make you clean them." He said with a sigh, already eyeing the white spots of liquid against the jet black shine. Letting his cock fall back to his stomach, he slides the ball of his foot down his dick again and back up, pausing at the tip to rub Dave against the arch of his shoe.

Dave is a mess. Face red and blond bangs sticking to his forehead, Bro ignores his gasps and pleas and the way his fingers dig into the wood hard enough to scrape the surface. It’s only with Bro’s permission that he is allowed to thrust up against the shining black shoes and grind against the sole.

"Jesus, Dave, you didn’t even come yet," Bro admonished as he picked his foot up and settled it against his dick entirely, just about covering it all as his foot pivots over his cock. A careful eye watches it tip side to side. After what feels like an eternity to Dave, Bro finally puts pressure on his foot as he bends down and braces his arm on his bent knee, studying the soiled material under careful eyes. Dave’s voice breaks as he shouts and bucks up, nearly unsettling Bro and causing him to tip to the side before he can catch himself.

"Is that what you want to do? You want to come on it?"

The hasty nod of his head would have been answer enough, but Dave vocalizes his desires anyway.

"Yes, yes, fucking yes, I-I wanna come on them," He whines, reaching up to push at his leg. He never dares to let his fingers reach out and touch his shoes, and Bro acknowledges his good behavior and finally pulls back. He sits in his chair with a sigh and plants his feet wide apart again, and Dave scrambles up soon after, dick dark red- nearly purple- and throbbing as he moves close.

He lays his dick against the top of Bro’s shoe, and bends forward to rest his forehead on his knee. It’s hard to resist tugging out his own cock, and Bro soon has a hand on his dick as Dave begins to thrust shallowly against him. The desperation in Dave’s grunts and gasps drives Bro up the wall and he tugs on his cock mercilessly, leaning forward in his seat to watch Dave grind himself against his shoe. The head of his cock catches against the laces, and with each bump going up Dave lets out a breathy gasp. His eyes are closed and his hands are shaky as he reaches out and bridges his thumbs over the top of his dick so he can thrust against the cool black and now slick material and keep his cock pressed in tight for the best friction he can attain.

“You can spit in your hand, Dave, if that’ll make it easier for you,” Bro mumbles as he fists himself a little faster. There’s a shaky snap of Dave’s hips as he responds to the idea, and soon he snatches a hand away. Dave spits in his palm and returns his hand to his dick. He jerks himself a few times, just to slick himself up a bit better, before laying himself back against the laces of Bro’s shoes. It’s an improvement, to be sure. Especially if the increase in Dave’s volume has anything to say about it.  
They’re both close. Neither brother is exactly able to keep it together during moments like these.

"Oh god, oh god, Bro Bro Bro," he whines as he snaps his hips forward one last time, and thick spurts of white cum paint the jet black shoes. Dave slumps into Bro’s leg and he pants, his jaw open wide and eyebrows knitted together as he presses his cheek into his kneecap. Bro follows him, on his heels as always, and his own cum splatters up against his stomach, teeth hard on his tongue.

Maybe a five minute break will be a good idea…

"Don’t get lazy, pervert. Still gotta clean it off." Bro says with a nonchalant air, shifting his foot so it rubs against Dave’s spent dick to send shivers down his spine. Bro settles back against his chair and closes his eyes, passing his hand over the head of his own spent dick. "Hands and knees, kid, get that ass in the air where I can see it."  
Well, at least he had enough patience to wait a minute.

Dave’s face is as red as his eyes as he jerkily responds, backing up off Bro’s leg as his shirt flutters around his waist from where it’s fallen from beneath his arms. He shuffles back and onto his knees, palms pressed flat against the floor as he bends his front down and subsequently raises his ass. Bro cracks an eye open. Oh yes. What a view.  
He can feel the first lick. Dave’s soft little tongue delivers a small and shy stroke, much like the first one he’d given to his shoes all those minutes before. Bro tsks quietly and twitches his foot in a near silent demand, and Dave is quick to get the message. His foot rocks softly with the force of Dave’s tongue, and Bro admires the soft sway of his hips and ass as he quietly laments having finished before the lovely show.

The laces are the hardest part to clean. The white streaks of cum melt away across the smooth sides and the sleek tongue, hell, even across the textured rim where the white rubber sits beneath the black shine. But the laces- no matter how hard he laps or how long he sucks, there’s still a trace of Dave’s own bitter cum that sits on his tongue as he closes his eyes and works. It feels like ten years passed when he sits back up, a shy blush on his cheek as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Bro smiles softly and reaches down and tugs the shoe off. He angles it, side to side, and studies the shoe with the fine eye of an artist until he finally grins fully and pats Dave’s hair.

"Nothin’ like a little spit and polish. I think I’ll wear these out tomorrow."


End file.
